A Crossroad Encounter
by Herdcat
Summary: Set after Jo leaves to hunt on her own. She works a case that is more complicated than she was expecting and the main suspect is a man called Crowley. She decides to confront him but does not realise quite what she is dealing with. He decides to show her.


It was after she had left home to pursue the same career that had got her father, and so many other acquaintances killed. After the incident with the persistent serial killer ghost which had fascinated and terrified her all at once, taking the little dissatisfied cracks of her current existence and excavating them into a hole which her old pastimes could not seem to fill.

Ellen could not understand. That or she deliberately chose not to, Jo could not tell which. For all that she knew about her mother there had always been a very real part of the older woman that remained unknowable. It was as if Ellen had closed off a part herself the night her husband died, and kept it hidden away, inaccessible beneath a wall of carefully constructed blankness. Jo had sometimes speculated about that, although generally not in her mother's presence, given the older woman's uncanny knack of guessing her thoughts.

Hunting was an addiction. Not that hunter's themselves tended to see it that way, preferring to think of themselves as modern day knights, not to mention god's gift to women, but then since when had hunters been any good at dealing with emotions? Anyone who had grown up working at a bar could recognise addiction; with its range of symptoms from the bright eyed over enthusiasm of a high to the pale shaky need to experience again...and again...and again. They all had it, all of those hard eyed hard lived men and women; whose ability was exceeded only by their paranoia. Oh, they might delude themselves into thinking that stopping was a possibility, that if the threat would only go away they could slip back into the fabric of society. But Jo knew the truth, and that was in a world without monsters these destructive damaged people would turn against themselves, and against the innocents they now died to protect because they could not handle a peaceful life.

No one stopped and no one walked away. So perhaps she was wrong about her mother, and maybe Ellen never had heard the call. That would perhaps explain her naive belief that she could keep her daughter sheltered from the life. Then again, if Ellen was so unaffected, why cling to a lifestyle that brought her face to face with the darkness at every turn? There had been no end of choices Jo's mother might have made, after the accident that had soured the lifestyle forever, any of which might have removed herself and her young daughter from the game. Instead she had opted to open the Roadhouse; a bar that catered to the very people who she blamed for her husband's death. Perhaps it was to honour the memory of Jo's father. Perhaps that was what Ellen had told herself when she saw the growing fascination in her daughter's eyes. Jo suspected her mother just couldn't face giving up her connection to that world, and that this had seemed like the perfect solution; sharing the company without most of the danger.

It must have been a real blow then to realise that the same connection was invariably luring her daughter into the life, although Jo did not see how it could really have been much of a surprise. Ellen blamed Dean, but that was completely unfair of her. Jo would have followed the call inevitably even without the added lure of an attractive hunter showing up in her life, making the game seem even more fascinating. But without Dean she would have gone on her own, and she would have died there, at the hands of a man who had been a monster even before death had made him a ghost.

That had been a shock, and it had made her reconsider her approach if nothing more. A childhood spent amongst hunters might make her tough compared to most women, but that did not mean she could expect to be stronger than these things which often threw grown men like they weighed nothing. She had gone in arrogant, assuming that knowledge was a substitute for experience and it had almost killed her. Of course it had, when people far stronger, more experienced and highly skilled often did not come back from even routine jobs. Her father had not come back from such a job. She really should have realised it far sooner, and it certainly should not have come as such a shock. The danger was very real and she could die. Actually die, alone in the darkness. Perhaps that was the truth Ellen had been trying so hard to import to her, but if so it did not frighten her nearly enough to stop. As humiliating as it was, this realisation that she was not nearly as tough as she had imagined herself, the fact remained that she had played the game and gotten out alive. So what that she had needed rescuing, how often had Dean and Sam looked out for each other? There was no reason why she should be expected to get everything right on her first try.

Just by recognising her limitations she made herself less likely to be caught out in the same way again, and besides she had not lost it completely. Even terrified and convinced that she was about to die, locked in a cage by a monster, she had kept enough wits about her to defend herself and do it some damage. Her father's knife had struck a blow and she had known then that she was not completely useless. Hunting was in her blood but that did not mean she could expect to become proficient over night. It would take practise but one day she was confident she could excel. And now she had a taste it would be impossible to go slinking back like a defeated child.

Ellen had been furious the night she announced her intension to continue down that path. It had seemed like a hypocritical reaction to Jo but she could not bring herself to say that. It was bad enough that if something happened to her – and wasn't that the discovery of her first hunt something always could -they would have parted on bad terms. She would not have her mother blaming herself for her death, at least any more than her mother already would. But that did not mean she was willing to give this up. That was something Dean understood, even if his brother did not. Sam had wanted out of the life and Dean would have been lost without it. For him as for her it was in their blood.

'I am going to hunt, and there is nothing you can do about it.' She had told Ellen still buoyed from her very first success.

'Not under my roof young lady.'

'Fine.' Jo had felt liberated even as she said the word. This was it, the beginning of her path, and she imagined she could feel her father watching her, his eyes awash with pride.

'Fine!'

Jo had left; frightened but exhilarated and very enthusiastic. Her first hunt all by herself and she couldn't wait to get into it.

At first the case had seemed like a simple enough haunting. The victim was a woman; all slim lines and perfect curves, the sort that Jo had always personally hated, because they made her feel chunky and out of place. Even more so recently knowing that Dean's preference ran towards just this sort of lover, but that was irrelevant. Dean was not here, and this woman Anna Carring was dead, a fate which she had not deserved despite her irritating beauty. She had died of a heart attack and the police had not suspected foul play, mostly because the woman had looked as if she suffered from an eating disorder, an assessment which Jo had to agree with looking at the photos. Still while some sufferers were rendered ugly and skeletal Anna had resembled a supermodel, and Jo could not help but understand the dead girl's logic. Perhaps it had been a destructive cycle, but it had certainly brought its reward. Aside from the death business and Jo was not particularly convinced this heart attack could be so easily explained away. There had been a string of similar incidents across the area and all the victims had had one thing in common; weight problems dating back at least ten years.

As difficult as it was to believe Anna had not always been so lovely. But photos did not lie, and the unhappy large looking girl staring back at her bore some fleeting resemblance to the stunning corpse. Jo dug deeper and quickly found a connection. Every one of these slender, almost unrealistically beautiful people had similar backgrounds and all of them had been members of the same weight watchers society ten years ago.

That was when it had begun to make sense to her. She was looking for a fellow member, but one whose future was not so successful. It would be a former member of the programme who had not been able to shed the weigh and had harboured a secret resentment for those who had. Add to that the likeliness of a suicide and you had all the ingredients you needed for an unquiet spirit. Now it was going after those it had resented in life.

With this in mind discovering the identity of the killer should be easy enough. She was swept up in her success and badly wanted to phone someone, Dean or Ellen or possibly Ash but then she remembered the last time and decided to keep her exuberance to herself. She would wait until she had solved this thing all by herself before she went to others with the news, anything else was to invite the hunters at her mother's request to take it away from her, and that she could not have. Perhaps once she had a victory under her belt her mother would finally start to believe that she could be trusted to survive without constant and irritating supervision.

So she started to dig but the results were surprisingly inconclusive. Of all the members of the programme at that time two had committed suicide both relatively recently. But neither had matched the criteria she had guessed. Rather they had shared much in common with the other victims, both having managed to shed the pounds to the point that it was difficult imagining them ever needing to diet. There was no evidence of any contact between themselves and the other victims, aside from their shared similarities and no motive she could see for seeking vengeance. More than that both of the suicides had occurred after some of the heart attacks which ruled out their spirits causing them.

Reluctantly Jo decided to re-evaluate. Perhaps she was going about this the wrong way, and what she needed to do was visit the premises of the meetings in person. It was there that she first heard the name Crowley, although it was a while before she would begin to appreciate its significance.

'Oh he was the best,' Enthused an employee whose name tag identified her as Susan. 'I mean I do my best, we all do but I have been at this place for thirty years and I have never seen anyone achieve those sorts of results. It was like he had a magic touch, the people he sponsored just seemed to suddenly discover the key. Yes, those were some of his.'

In fact all of the recent victims had been Crowley's including the two suicides whom Jo had reluctantly moved into her list of probable victims. It seemed certain that whatever was going on this Crowley was the key, and she found herself wondering if he might have died in the last month. Certainly that might explain the resentment; maybe the man who had been so talented at inspiring others had fallen off the wagon himself and so had taken to punishing those he had previously helped. When she asked cautiously if he was still in the business, Susan had not known, but she thought she had seen him in the area the other day. That seemed to rule out ghost, but there were many other ways a living man could be causing these deaths. She decided to ask around with some of the other long time employees to see what she could discover.

'Crowley?' an older man had asked, fixing her with a sharp stare.

'As if I could forget the smug bastard. There was something off about that man whatever the others said. I stayed away from him and would encourage anyone else to do the same.'

This was more promising.

'You see there have been some accidents involving people Crowley used to work with and I think there might be a connection. No one will believe me but I am determined to find proof. The only problem is I don't know how to track him down,' Jo explained, thankful for an ability to lie that could fool even experienced hunters.

It helped that her story confirmed something he had privately wanted to believe. But still there was a sharpness about this man. He was not going to be easily fooled, and this made her hopeful about the accuracy of his observations about the man Crowley.

'That is all very well young lady but this does not seem like a matter you should be investigating by yourself. Particularly if you have reason to believe the oily bastard is dangerous.' He did not seem remotely surprised that this might be the case, Jo noticed.

'One of the victims was my sister,' she said meeting his eyes determinedly. She knew the exact moment she had made him uncomfortable enough to help her. It was difficult to hide the excitement she could feel, this was her case and she was working it like a pro!

'I suppose that changes things,' the man said reluctantly. 'Just promise me something. Just to give an old man peace of mind, I want your word that you will not do something dangerous like confront him by yourself.'

'Of course not,' Jo lied smoothly. 'I just want information that might persuade the police to investigate his involvement.'

The man nodded. 'In that case I would be delighted to assist you.' Hiding a smirk of victory Jo followed him down the corridor. Who said she needed Dean to get the answers she needed?

'This is him.' Jo had not been entirely certain what to expect from the man she was by now convinced had taken to murdering his former successes. But whatever she had thought to find it was not a short mischievous looking man with a twinkle in his eye and an amused smile. The photograph showed a number of people, many who were now dead, and some she had never seen but who soon would be if she could not solve the case quickly. At first Jo was not certain she was looking at the right man.

'That is definitely him?' she asked, taking in the suit and the distinctly unthreatening aura that the man seemed to give off.

The old man fixed her with a knowing stare.

'Thought he would look like a murderous thug did you? Looks can be deceiving girl.' And Jo found herself biting her tongue because of course she knew that, more than anyone else.

'Of course. I am sorry. I didn't mean. It's just, difficult to imagine him overpowering anyone long enough to kill them.'

'Well don't be fooled by that,' the man told her sharply.

'The Crowley I knew was plenty strong. And there was always something about him, something off. I would not be remotely surprised to hear that he was killing people. While he was here he singled out the most vulnerable as if he could tell just by looking at them which would be the most fragile. The man was a predator whatever the other's thought. I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't taking advantage of some of them.' The man trailed off as though remembering who he was talking to.

'You mean like sex?' asked Jo unable to keep the doubt out of her voice. The people in that photograph did not look attractive enough to lure anyone, let alone a man who was obviously charismatic enough to charm people to his cause. Then again look at how Anna had turned out. Perhaps he had persuaded them to have sex with him once they were slim enough to be desirable and he had manipulated them into thinking they would not stay that way without him? It was possible but hardly explained why they would be dying now, ten years after Crowley had left his role.

'Do you know where he went?' she asked suddenly. The other man's eyes narrowed.

'I am not going to confront him,' she insisted. 'I just wanted to see if he might be connected to any other disappearances. Something that the police would not be able to ignore. All I want is justice for my sister.'

The man nodded, and there was sympathy in his eyes now. She had won him over.

'I'm afraid I have no clue where he might have gone. I was just glad to hear he went. But if as you say people are dying and he is involved he would have to be back. He was staying in one of the more posh hotels back before, and he might have gone back there. I can't remember the name of the place but it's unmistakable. Turn left at the crossroads and there is a big sign. Not that you should approach him. That would be dangerous.'

Nodding Jo murmured reassurances but her mind was already far away, plotting ways in which she could do just that. After all she was aware that however far from supermodel she may be she was certainly attractive enough that most men were flattered by her interest particularly older ones. It should be easy enough to scout the place, and if he didn't show she could always find someone else to ask about his description. It may prove to be an empty lead but right now it was all she had. And she had one advantage that all those rough and dangerous men lacked. No one saw a slender blonde woman as a potential threat. If she could meet Crowley it would not be too dangerous to strike up a conversation, provided there were other people around. Then she would see what her instincts told her about what was going on. If he was a monster she might be able to figure out what kind. There were hundreds of reasons he might be murdering those people, and whatever those were she was going to discover them, and stop him.

The dress she wore was one she had bought for just this sort of occasion although she had never really had a chance to wear it before. There just weren't that many excuses to dress up back home, and she had found it difficult enough to get people to take her seriously without adding dressing girly to the list of her apparent faults. Now she had the perfect excuse and she found she rather enjoyed it. There was something empowering about donning a disguise particularly one that emphasized her breasts in such a flattering way, and she stalked into the hotel, which was named the Thistle Place with confidence. She could feel the admiring stares and allowed herself a half smile as she indicated to the waiter that she would be dining alone. She almost wished that Dean could be here to see the effect she was having, he would not see her as a little girl tonight she was sure, but there was an intoxicating sort of independence in being here alone. This was her game, her hunt and no one was going to take that from her. She was thinking about this and wondering what the food was going to be like when she was startled from her thoughts by someone sitting down opposite her. Silently cursing herself for not being more aware of her surroundings particularly during a hunt, another rookie error although she hated to admit it, she looked up and found herself face to face with the man from the photograph.

'I hope you don't mind the intrusion,' Crowley told her; with a smile that suggested that his company could never be considered an intrusion. 'But I couldn't help but overhear that you are here alone and you know there are some unsavoury types around here,' he peered around at their fellow dinners with a show of exaggerated suspicion. 'Hate to see an impressionable young lady fall into bad company so I thought I would offer you the benefit of my considerable experience.'

This was unexpected and she could feel her heart quicken with unease. Could he know she had been investigating him? If so she was in very real danger, but she doubted he would try to harm her here. Too many witnesses. And if the man from earlier was correct Crowley enjoyed playing games with people so perhaps he had just seen an opportunity to chat up an attractive girl. If that were true it would be an irresistible chance to find out about him and the sort of threat he might possess. Either way she was a hunter and assuming he was the killer, which seemed likely, she would be facing him at some point. May as well start now, she reasoned. So she offered him a cautious smile.

'You can't just allude to gossip like that and not follow through,' she chided him lightly. 'What exactly is unsavoury about the people here? They look positively normal.'

Crowley's smile broadened. 'But that is exactly why you should learn to watch your back,' he said and she felt herself go cold. Was he referring to her distraction which had let him approach her unseen or just making innocent conversation? He continued before she could give it further thought, although she thought his smile might have increased with her obvious unease.

'That guy over there, dressed like a banker... He has a sordid history, cheats on his wife with underage women, after tampering with their drinks in frequent cases.' The man, who Jo had turned her head to look at, had at first seemed innocuous enough, but on catching her eye he offered her a leer which was far from reassuring. Jo wondered if Crowley could possibly know such a thing and if so how. Made uncomfortable by the banker's scrutiny she turned back hurriedly to find Crowley holding out her drink, his smile far from innocent. She took it uncomfortably aware that she had just been played a second time

'A toast to taking precautions' he suggested with a smirk, taking a drink from his own whiskey, and gesturing to her to do the same.

'Perhaps some other time,' she replied hating the knowing amusement in his eyes.

'You know I prefer my lover's conscious,' he told her casually as though referring to the weather. 'There is so little sport to be had in fiddling with the comatose. They don't tend to remember much, and I do like to consider myself memorable.'

She found her lip twitching despite of herself.

'Of course if you were interested I do have a room upstairs, I assure you the bed is very comfortable...'

'I would sooner spend the night with something I call self respect,' she retorted mechanically.

Crowley shrugged easily. 'I hear that a lot at the start, in my line of work. An easy enough sentiment when you don't really care about the outcome. Rarely lasts of course. Eventually there is always something that seems more important and then those precious scruples crumble easily enough.'

It was a hint and she hadn't even had to fish for it. What exactly was his line of work? She didn't want to look too obvious.

'You can't be that good in bed,' she stated frankly and to her surprise he laughed.

'Only one way to find out luv, although I don't mean to give you the wrong idea about my occupation. I am an entrepreneur, a businessman. My clients come from all over; from every type of life, all desperate for the services only I can give them.' She felt certain he was playing her, dangling the information in front of her but still out of reach, but at the same time she could not help but feeling she was close. Leaning closer, unable to look away she tried to prompt him.

'And that is?'

Crowley gestured expansively. 'Anything they can think to want. If they are willing to pay the price.'

'Are your services so expensive then?'

His eyes were laughing at her and she couldn't seem to look away from them. She was vaguely aware that around them people were enjoying their meals like normal but they seemed an impossible distance away. He had managed to create an aura of intimacy around them as though they were the only two people in the world. Jo was not oblivious to the danger of that. She had thought confronting him in a crowded place would be safe enough and now she was no longer sure. But she also felt tantalizingly close to solving her case and she knew that if she left now she would probably never learn the answers she craved.

'Matter of perspective sweetheart. I give a generous grace period but interest is a bitch. You should hear them trying to weasel their way out as if they had not known exactly what they were getting into at the start. Shameful really. This generation has no sense of responsibility.'

Little pieces were coming together faster and faster as he spoke. Details that probably should have registered long before if she had been thinking more clearly. Such as the timescale of the case, and the presence of a crossroads next to the hotel. If she had not allowed her grudging fascination with this man to blind her she would have seen it before now. Damn it. She wished now that she had called someone else, this was way out of her league. Despite her attempt to keep calm she knew that some of her panic must have shown. A demon. This was a demon. She was sitting opposite an actual goddamn demon. Crowley just watched her, radiated satisfaction, and she wondered how she could ever have considered him lacking in danger.

'Would your grace period be ten years?' she asked hollowly. Crowley ran his fingers down the side of his glass deliberately. She was reminded of the way she had once played with a knife, but somehow the lack of an obvious weapon made his threat more convincing than hers had ever seemed. His eyes were darkly amused and she knew that he had to be enjoying this. Hunters might be unsubtle creatures but most of them would have possessed more sense than to let themselves be trapped so easily. No wonder he was playing with her.

'That is the standard contract although in rare cases I have been known to make exceptions. Certainly nothing like that for the needy fat kids this area seems to breed like vermin.' Crowley's face showed distaste. She suspected it was genuine. She was wondering if she should try to run, if she would get far. There was salt on the table but not enough to really harm him. She suspected that if he wanted to kill her she was going to die. Damn. She had spent so long insisting that she could do the job and then she would die on the first gig she attempted on her own. Just her luck that it would be demons!

'No challenge, no sophistication. Still my pets are harvesting the last of those as we speak, and thankfully I have been promoted high enough to avoid being stuck with such lowly contracts in future.' She must have looked surprised because he elaborated.

'There's a chain of command darling. Even in hell.' She tried not to flinch at the casual mention of the pit, and did not entirely succeed. What was it about her that seemed to attract disaster wherever she went? Even the Winchesters only graduated to demons after a couple of good old fashioned hauntings.

'They sold their souls just to lose weight?' she asked faintly horrified but not particularly surprised.

'You would be surprised the things that matter to people pet. A pretty thing like you probably doesn't really notice the importance of appearance.' She feels heat rising to her face and hated herself for responding to the flattery. It was not that she was unused to compliments but there was something wrong and therefore intoxicating about such appreciation coming from a demon.

'Demon's aren't exactly known for their self restraint,' Crowley explained obviously guessing some measure of her thoughts.

'We are in a room full of people.' Jo countered.

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

'And?'

There is a sudden growling from near to her feet and she can't stop herself from flinching. She can't see anything there but she can feel the heat of unnatural breath against her leg. She freezes as if this might somehow keep her safe. Crowley doesn't have to hurt her himself she realises dimly. Hotel customers can't see hell hounds. She will just look like someone whose heart gave out or perhaps as if she chocked on a piece of food. She wonders how sharp the teeth are. Her breath is coming too quickly and she can't stop imagining the pain of being torn open by such a beast. It would be a horrible death. Why had she thought this was a good idea?

She is brought back to the present by a hand on her wrist. It might be her imagination but Crowley's skin feels unnaturally warm. She can't quite suppress a shudder and she knows he feels it. Still his grip is gentle, although insistent and she does not resist as he pulls her towards him.

'Hellhounds can sense fear,' he tells her, his lips close enough to her ear that she can feel his breath on her face. He smells of aftershave and sulphur. 'This one obeys me but still you might want to get a grip on the panic you are radiating. It's never a good idea to tempt the demonic.' It is difficult to keep her eyes on the man when she knows that the creature is still somewhere around, and that she cannot even see to avoid it. But the man is a demon and she knows rationally that the hellhound will not attack her without his permission. Probably.

'Why?' She forces herself to say, although she can't seem to manage anything louder than a whisper. 'If you're going to kill me anyway?'

Crowley raised his free hand to caress her face, and only the knowledge that the hound was still somewhere at her feet kept her from instinctively recoiling. His touch was light but suggestive and she felt her cheeks flush. For a moment she almost forgot to breathe and then he had released her hand and she was leaning hurriedly backwards and hellhounds be damned. He allowed her to retreat, watching with a smirk.

'Not tonight sweetheart. You have been entertaining and more to the point Dean Winchester is fond of you. That makes you valuable. Dean doesn't have attachments to that many people, and he has an alarming tendency to get his hands on weapons that can prove bothersome to us. I like to have a couple of aces in the hole and tonight you happen to be one of them. That's why when I heard you were investigating me I took the time out to keep you out of harm's way. Technically hell hounds only go after the person who made the contract but sometimes they take objection to hunters who try to interfere with them. I thought it prudent to ensure your survival. As I said before this can be a dangerous area.'

She feels lightheaded with relief. Unless he is lying, and really why would he do that she is going to get out of here alive. That is more than she had expected once she had realised what he was. Ok so it is because of Dean but at this moment she really couldn't care less why the demon is not going to murder her.

'Well well. As pleasant as this has been my work is concluded and I really can't linger. It has been fun. Do give me a call if you decide to do business. Any crossroads. Ask for Crowley. I might be persuaded to give you a more generous deal if we sealed it the old fashioned way.' His leer left little doubt as to what that way consisted of.

He sauntered away with a little wave, pausing to wink at a man who was sitting three tables in front of them who looked profoundly uncomfortable. Was there anyone in this place except her who he hadn't made a deal with? Then he was out of the door and she could breathe again. It wasn't until a good ten minutes after that that she had the confidence to get up and leave herself. She kept expecting to see him lingering around outside but there was no one there. No sign that she had spent the evening talking to one of the most dangerous sorts of monster in this world. She had never been so relieved to get inside her salt warded motel room.

She thought of his hands on her as she slipped out of the dress, and reluctantly resolved not to wear the thing again. It wasn't worth the trouble. She picked up the phone and considered calling Dean. It was obvious that Crowley knew him and surely if the demon was looking for holds over him the other hunter deserved to know. But then again Dean already knew that demons could not be trusted and when the hold in question was her it was less to do with his safety and more to do with her freedom. If she told him she knew how he would respond. He would insist she go to a safe house and leave hunting alone. Worse he would tell her mother. She would never be allowed outside the Roadhouse again ever.

No that was unthinkable. This little conversation was going to remain between herself and Crowley. She did decide to call her mother though. Nothing specific just that she had finished her first case and that she was still alive and well. If nothing else tonight had reminded her of how important those things were. It would be some time before her dreams were free of hellhounds.


End file.
